


Fog

by Morethancupcake



Series: Gratitude, Joy and Sorrow [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Angst, Brain Damage, Coming Out, Endverse!Cas, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Dean, M/M, Past Castiel/Other(s), Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 14:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5931058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morethancupcake/pseuds/Morethancupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dean doesn't make sense, sometimes. It's almost, almost like he's there, but suddenly he isn't, and Castiel wonders where this beautiful mind is wandering."</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, Dean gets better. Castiel does, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fog

**Author's Note:**

> A little more of this verse. I think reading the first part would help with understanding everything.
> 
> Tittle from Lang Leav's poem, from "Love & Misadventure "

"Is that how it was, for you ?"

Dean doesn't make sense, sometimes. It's almost, almost like he's there, but suddenly he isn't, and Castiel wonders where this beautiful mind is wandering.

"What do you mean ?" 

A minute ago, Dean was peeling the potato in his hand, and now the green eyes are filled with tears.

"When I was with Lisa, is that how it was, for you ?"

He cries into Castiel's chest, fisting the fabric of the soft grey shirt. Dean's hair is soft, and it smells like their shampoo.

 

Dean has a headache for the rest of the day.

 

You love Castiel. Castiel is an angel. You love him.

 

"It's the first day I remembered. I remembered, and then I thought about the day I spoke about Lisa and you left. I remembered, and you were gone. I had lost you again, and it was my fault."

 

Castiel holds the piece of paper in his hand. It's soft, folded so many times under the pillow it's like soft jersey under his fingertips. 

"I was afraid to forget again, and hurt you again." Dean puts his head on Castiel's shoulder. "I needed to remember, in case you were ever coming back."

Dean smiles, it's a little off. Today is a bad day, he's not exactly there. Castiel holds his hand, and it's not two grown-ups in love, it's Dean being a child, an innocent version of himself. Dean laughs at the butterflies around the bunker, and he helps Castiel with the tiny garden on the roof. 

Castiel tells him about Joshua, and the garden. He tells him about beetroots, and how delicious they will be roasted. Dean laughs, and plays with the wildflowers, and Castiel feels both happy and sad.

The paper is safe in Dean's diary, in their room.

Castiel makes them grilled cheese, and wraps a blanket around Dean when he falls asleep in front of the TV.

 

He asks again one morning, when they're on their way to town. 

Sometimes, Castiel's phone rings. Sometimes. He's nice of course he is. He tells them he's not travelling anymore, he's with Dean, and he is happy. They're happy for him, for them. It's a little surreal, to talk to them without the drugs, without the void in his heart. 

His phone rings and he chats for a minute.

In the car, Dean is waiting, and he doesn't speak for an hour.

 

"Is that how it was, for you ?"

Castiel recognize the question, but he doesn't know what to make of it. Dean wipes his mouth, and looks at the fields around them. 

"You said before. I think. You said you watched me, when I was with Lisa ?" It sounds like a question, and Castiel nods, eyes on the fields too. It's still early enough for fog. Dean's memory is still blurry, big chunks of it completely gone. "I remember how sad I felt, when you were smoking outside, talking to them. I remember, watching you coming back well fucked, and I had no idea, about you and me, so I just thought..." Dean breathes in once, twice. "I just thought it was just that, you coming back between men, and staying with us."

"Dean..."

 

The rest of the trip is heavy, the silence deafening. Dean can't drive with music anymore, his focus not good enough. Castiel closes his eyes and wish for the pills Dean took away from him. He wish for a smoke, for a quick fix, for anything

 

Dean holds his hand, on their way to the store. The small town is safe, incredibly so for something so small. People know them, mistake them for two photographs, or actors, who knows. People say hello to them, and tiptoe around Dean and his recovery. It's sweet.

They're putting groceries in the trunk, when Dean says : "I'm not mad at you anymore, I think," Castiel shoots him a bewildered look, so he adds : "Not about them, no. But lying to me. I get it. Probably would've done the same for you. You thought I was happy, and, I guess I was."

"I just needed you to be safe, Dean."

"I know."

Dean smiles to him, and Castiel smiles back.

 

"You never liked to hold my hand." He speaks when they almost home. Dean humming under his breath, the sun high above them. Castiel's voice is rough, he doesn't speak much, so it cracks at the edge. "Before. You used to jerk away from holding hands when we were in public."

"I was an asshole, you mean ?" They're still smiling. It's not the early days, filled with yells and huffs. Dean talks, it's easy. It's a new part of him they had to discover So Castiel tries.

"No. It was just who you were."

"Well I like holding your hand." 

 

He writes in on his diary. Castiel doesn't mean to read, but Dean falls asleep writing. 

 

I like holding his hand in mine. I like holding Castiel's hand.

 

Sam is still hard to be around, sometimes. Castiel doesn't mind, he gets it. Sam checks on him, he knows. He checks for drugs and alcohol, and Dean huffs and fights. He comes to the little garden and yells.

"How can you accept this ? How is this okay with you ?"

"He was an addict too, Dean."

"Exactly !!" 

Dean huffs and yells, but he holds Castiel against his chest and it fells nice to be protected, even if it's from Sam Winchester's mother hen tendencies.

Dean huffs, but he stops yelling when Castiel runs his fingers through his hair. He helps him with the soil, and cleanig up the weeds and bugs. Castiel puts him on snails duty, and Dean giggles happily at them too drunk on cheap beer to escape. He takes them all away to the forest, and Castiel tries not to smile at Sam's cups of coffee left as a peace offering.

 

"Cas, have you eaten anything ?" Dean comes to him and kisses him. He tastes like coffee, like mornings. The kitchen doesn't smell like anything, there's no crumbs, no bowl in the sink. Dean forgot to eat, again.

Dean remembers to feed him, always.

"I wanted eggs, actually."

"Eggs, I can make it happen." They kiss and smile, and Castiel waits up unil the eggs touch the frying pan to say : "Actually it's stupid, I won't be able to eat six eggs by myself." Dean rolls his eyes, and they split the gigantic omelet between them. Dean moans about his second breakfast, but he cleans his plate and steals mushrooms from Castiel's.

It's easier that way.

 

Castiel hands shake, sometimes. He enters a bar, and it smells like bourbon, like men, like many nights on the road, without Dean to hold his fingers in his.

"A soda, please." The waitress looks annoyed, and she asks him what kind in a high pitched voice. "Surprise me."

Dean tells him about Dean's youth, about the first time they made smores, the first marshmallow fight in the Impala. Sam keeps them fed, and picks another round of soda for all of them. They laugh so much people are looking at them, and in Dean's grip, Castiel's hand shake.

 

The motel is clean, and Sam actually made enough cash on his obscure website to afford to book them two rooms. Dean keeps him close, following him into the shower, cracking open a bag of candy and getting comfortable on the bed. 

"Hey Cas, pretty sure you'll like this story." 

Castiel smiles, it's a reflex. Dean is extremely cute, hair spiky and mouth full of candy. It's always the same story, about him and Sam and fireworks. Dean never realizes he's repeating himself, and Castiel will never get tired of seeing him giggle.

"Tell me ?" He pops a candy in his mouth, it tastes like bubblegum and it's sour, it's perfect. Dean tells him, and Castiel laughs, too.

 

They're almost asleep, after another quick shower, still panting a little, their lips red and swollen, when Dean whispers.

"Have I ever told you about the night I came out to dad ?" Castiel shakes his head, and Dean kisses him softly. "It was because of a guy. He was staying at the motel, too. The guy was nice, so nice. Not a pervert, or a pedo, even if I was, what.. sixteen, seventeen ? I looked older, you know ?"

"I know, Dean." he doesn't like this story already, but he brings Dean closer to his chest, and listens.

"So yeah. The guy had been asking us about school, from day one. He would get Sammy books, and he would get us food. He never asked for anything, and never wanted to hang out in our room. He said it wouldn't be right, for a grown man to be there, and yeah, I kind of get it now." Dean smiles. "Dad would be away from weeks, months sometimes. But this guy, this guy would be there every day, telling us to be good at school, and then letting us do homework at his table. He was good."

"He sounds like a nice man." Castiel kisses his forehead, letting him go on.

"He was. And I was, crushing so hard on him. So fucking hard. I would pretend to smoke to be with him, and he would tell me to stop, and wouldn't let me grab a beer." Dean snorts. "It was nice, to talk to him. He made me feel so good about myself, like I could be someone, you know ?" He shakes his head, too lost into his memory. "So yeah. One night dad comes back, and I guess he hears about him, or he notices what a lovesick idiot I was. And I tell him. Everything. I tell him about how gone I am, how in love with a man I am, and how me and Sammy we're going to leave him for good."

Castiel holds him even closer, and he runs his hands up and down his back. Dean isn't crying, but he's close. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me." Dean doesn't hear him, it seems.

"So I run away, with my bloody nose, and Dad yelling at me to come back, and I go to the dinner. He's there, obviously, and he asks what's wrong." A shaky breath. "I kissed him. I kissed him on the parking lot, and got blood on his shirt. God, Cas, he wasn't even gay, and I just..." Another breath, another. "Dad went after him with a gun. I'm not really sure what happened, we moved during the night after that."

Castiel holds him, and Dean cries.

 

In the morning, they're having breakfast, waffles and bacon, when Dean looks over the table and Sammy, still mostly asleep, and asks : "Do you remember the guy who used to give us food, and let us do homework at his table ? Where was it, South Carolina ?"

Sam's smile is bigger than even and they both shares little stories, until Sam finishes his eggs, and says : "I ran into him when I was in Stanford, actually." 

Dean's coffee cups almost finishes on the floor. Castiel puts a hand on his leg, an anchor. "You... You did ?"

"Yeah, he was working around, he was some kind of writer. He asked about you, actually." Sam avoids his eyes. "He was sad. When I told him you decided to follow dad. He looked really worried for you."

Dean excuses himself to the bathroom. 

Sammy eyes them both, at loss. He's considering going to check on his brother, but Castiel orders another pot of coffee, and asks "You think you remember the name of this writer ? You could find his email adress, maybe ?"

"Of course." 

Dean lets them the keys, and sleeps on the backseat. Their little adventure doesn't seem right anymore. Castiel turns right instead of left, and he heads back to the bunker. After a while, Sam puts on some music, and falls asleep too.

 

Castiel writes to the man. Dean doesn't trust himself enough, he's too raw. "You know what to say. You know what I want to tell him. I trust you."

Castiel writes, and he leaves the computer open for Dean. He goes outside, and plays a little in the garden. It's still cold, and Dean brings him a bigger jacket when he comes to sit with him.

"I sent it." Castiel watches the star, and Dean watches him. "You told him. About my head."

"I did."

"You did."

It starts to be a little too cold when Castiel adds. "I think I want to adopt a cat."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading :) lots of you asked for a sequel, when I hinted the first part was too angsty, so there it is. More will probably follow.
> 
> You can find it (and me) on tumblr as usual :
> 
>  http://iwanttopizzamanyou.tumblr.com/post/138797656969/fog
> 
> If you liked the story, kudos and nice comments make me really happy ! Remember to drink regularly and to strech :)


End file.
